Accidental Babies
by Dylissia Jane
Summary: It had began innocently enough. Chaste kisses. Whispered compliments. The smell of cologne.


Title - Accidental Babies

Rating – M

Characters – Sara/Nick

Authors Note – I'm currently re watching the earlier seasons of CSI where Sara is obsessed with Grissom – I'm also kind of emo at the minute so – heart wrenching story of a love affair from a distance that seemingly goes wrong when he gets a taste. Inspired by Damien Rice " Accidental Babies "

Disclaimer – These are not mine – I simply toy around for my own amusement.

The rays of sunlight protruded through slits of drawn blinds. The scent in the room alluring – transfixing his senses. He had been ever so gentle with her, his lips swollen from the impartial imprint of hers. His arms ached, his head spinning. Reeling from the aftermath of what had just occurred. With a satisfying taste of what was playing out within the confines of his mind.

It was exactly how he had imagined it. Legs entwined, her hand falling against his chest. Her hair errant, loose across her graceful features, her limber frame flush against his side, her lips seeming plumper from exploring each others caverns. Her chest falling and rising with each precious breath that fell from her parted lips. Long lashes caressing cheekbones as eyelids flickered occupying dreams unseen.

He had known the second he heard her delicate knuckles grazing against the wood of his front door. The way her eyes avoided contact with his every split second. The apparent rejection oozing from her pores. Her slumped shoulders, the way her eyes wore thin when the questions flowed about why she had chosen to come to him. There were no answers. Just a desperate desire. A need to feel complete. To feel whole. He understood the risk he ran – the heartache that might follow. But seeing those eyes. Those eyes welling with tears, fresh, aplenty. The way her lips had quivered when his gentle voice soothed her. How she tensed, her back leaning into his warmth, as his hands stroked at the thin fabric, how he felt he sharp shoulder blades, had memorized the details of her beneath the pads of his fingertips. The way she had bowed her head, her raven locks falling to one side exposing her neck. She had never appeared so beautiful.

Nick. Good old Nick. The gentlemen. The one she turned to when everything seemed so futile. The pointless chase after somebody who deemed her more as an option if nothing more. The man that had spent those moments, comforting her. Had elicited something so sinister she hadn't seen it coming.

He tasted like mint. His breath warm against her lips, She took her time. Forgetting everything. Accepting what was about to take place. Damn the consequences.

It had began innocently enough. Chaste kisses. Whispered compliments. The smell of cologne. The perfume, mingling together to create a scent so impressive that it acted like an aphrodisiac. The sound of lips smacking against each other, the sensation of her hands, caressing his forearms. Her hands teasing at the V of his neck, tracing the outlines, the way his eyes had darkened.

The way they had forgot.

She forgot.

Here. Right here. In this very room. They had committed a crime – Where nobody knew. Nobody except them. They had blurred the lines of friendship. With intentions unknown. The only things apparent, were the reminiscent crescents tattooed into his forearms, the aching limbs; in the confines of a sparsely decorated room.

Nicks lips were parched, his mind searching for conclusions. Perhaps he was not able to detect Sara's emotions. He dare not utter his name. It was enough to cause more than pin prick of guilt. How could someone understand something as delicate as her. Something that appeared so strong. So put together. That you could not see the cracks unless you REALLY looked. It had taken months for him to fully understand the myths and truths of Sara Sidle. It had never occurred to him before. The way her eyes would glaze over. Her face turning to stone at the mere entrance of her affections. They would not waver. Would not leave her.

Sara began to stir, her gentle moans assuring him that she was not quite asleep. He pondered if he had subsequently gone to far. What would the consequence be for this mistake.

It was far from a mistake for him.

His throat was so dry. His mind a flush with a million racing thoughts. He had laid ever so still as not to wake her. His fingers tracing the contours of her slender wrists, stroking her hair. Smelling her shampoo.

Brown eyes stared back at him. Stuttered words sneaking from unprepared lips. Sara adjusted her weight. Instead of pulling away she seemed to be attempting to get closer. Her hand snaking it's way across his chest. She had smiled. Beamed at him.

Confusion reigned supreme.

It was no secret he was the third player in this game.

His powers of speech compromised as she settled into the crook of his neck. Her breath warm against his chest, her hand finding his. Fingers lacing, smooth calloused. Tanned, Porcelain.

" Nick ? "

Her voice was so small it worried him. Raspy, dry. Vulnerable. Guilt stabbed him. Had he taken advantage of her. Had he been the one to cross that fine line. Ran riot in the zone he had been secluded in. The zone that had been marked so clearly. He felt a droplet fall against his bare chest. His hands instinctively clutching her tightly.

"Why are you crying Sar "

Thick smooth Texan accent. The drawl pronounced at the tip of his tongue. His hand rubbing her back, the atmosphere becoming euphoric. Stifling.

The answer was as subtle as a gun. There was no need for mistakes, for talking about what it was that had pursued her mind, captured her emotion, leaving hushed sobs in it's wake. There were no wounds, no broken hearts to wade through. No dragging of the feet, No walking on egg shells.

Pure unadulterated truth. The truth in the bed they made.

Thin sheets obscured the indecent positions, the sheer nudity of the act. Taking a leap of faith. Right into each others arms. Residing in the silence, the slowing sobs. The light bleeding beneath blinds.

Nick silently rejoiced, his fingers splaying across her bare back, smoothing raven strands, whispering it's okay.

And it really was.

" && I know I make you cry,

I know sometimes you wanna die,

But do you really feel alive without me?

If so, Be free, If not, Leave him for me.

Before one of us has – Accidental Babies. "


End file.
